


And I Will Take Care Of You

by deadcandance



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Not Beta Read, Permanent Injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-12 12:40:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29135676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deadcandance/pseuds/deadcandance
Summary: When Geralt is hurting he does not complain. He may utter a curse under his breath as he massages his injured knee when he thinks no one is paying attention, but most of the time he acts as if the pain does not bother him.Dandelion knows, though. He’s been with Geralt long enough to see right through his act.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 12
Kudos: 82





	And I Will Take Care Of You

When Geralt is hurting he does not complain. He may utter a curse under his breath as he massages his injured knee when he thinks no one is paying attention, but most of the time he acts as if the pain does not bother him.

Dandelion knows, though. He’s been with Geralt long enough to see right through his act. He notices how his brow suddenly furrows and his forehead starts glistening with sweat, even though he keeps talking normally. He notes how his lips form a thin line and his eyes close briefly or how he limps when he stays behind for whatever reason.

Whenever he tries to get him to stop for a moment and rest, Geralt puts on his best reassuring smile and pats his shoulder, saying “ _ I’m fine, Dandelion _ ”. But Geralt isn’t fine and he knows and it hurts to feel so useless when he is suffering.

Then, one day, Dandelion has enough.

It’s night and it’s cold, so cold that the blankets feel as if they’re made of thin silk rather than wool. Dandelion feels it in his bones as he shivers in his bedroll, curling up on himself to try and preserve at least some body heat. 

Not too far from him, Geralt is restless. He tosses and turns in his blanket, desperately searching for the right position to finally fall asleep in. But he does not find one. It’s so cold and Dandelion knows the pain in his damaged joints must be terrible. The witcher takes deep breaths and then huffs, but not once does he moan in pain.

Dandelion stands and slowly makes his way to him in the dark, feeling around not to risk tripping and falling. Geralt is suddenly very still, most likely pretending to be asleep after hearing him move. But Dandelion is not going to be fooled.

“Geralt,” he calls, softly. He can only make out his silhouette in the dark, but he knows his friend can see him as clearly as if it were day.

“Go to bed, Dandelion …” he finally replies, when it’s clear the bard has no intention to leave his side.

“No,” he says, trying to sound stern. “I want to help.”

“There’s nothing you can do. Go back to bed. We’ve got a long trip ahead of us and we’ll leave at dawn.”

“You’re in pain.”

Geralt’s quiet, but only for a couple moments.

“It’s nothing.”

“It’s not  _ nothing _ , Geralt! Damn it, you must think I’m either blind or incredibly stupid! I can see that your leg is giving you hell even if you keep pretending it doesn’t for some reason!”

Dandelion receives no answer, but he’s not about to give up.

“I don’t know why you’re so adamant on keeping up this whole self-sacrificing martyr bullshit, but I’m done with it! You don’t have to do everything alone and, most importantly, you don’t have to just endure pain as some sort of punishment you think you deserve!”

He feels the rustle of fabric as Geralt shifts in his bedroll.

Dandelion feels his face all heated up and takes a deep breath to calm himself down. No point in getting angry, especially if he risks making the witcher even more inclined to refuse his help. He clears his throat awkwardly.

“Could you please light up the fire? I can’t see what I’m doing …”

They sit in the dark for a bit more before Dandelion sees a sparkle not too far from them and then a small flame as the wood catches fire. 

When he looks at Geralt there’s a hint of shame in his expression, but also something else. Most people wouldn’t probably notice, but Dandelion does. It’s  _ gratitude _ .

The bard makes his way to the fire and places his hands as close as possible, rubbing them together so he can heat them up at least a bit.

He hears Geralt’s voice from behind.

“Why are you doing this, Dandelion?”

He scoffs.

“Because you’re my good friend and I care about you,” he replies, as if it’s obvious. Geralt is actually a bit more than just a good friend, but even though he’s a romantic at heart, he knows some things aren’t just meant to be. “And you’ve always helped me when I was in need. It’s only natural I return the favour.”

He goes back to Geralt, who’s now sitting up on his bedroll and kneels in front of him.

“I would ask you to lift your pants, but it’s so damn cold I fear that would be counterproductive … and I could only get my hands so warm …” he explains, a bit sheepishly.

“Doesn’t matter …”

Dandelion puts his hands on Geralt’s aching knee and starts applying just the right amount of pressure to try and ease the pain. He frowns in concentration and the tip of his tongue hangs out from his lips, though he doesn’t notice. He also doesn’t see the small smile on Geralt’s face upon catching a glimpse of this particular habit of his.

“How do you know how to do this?” the witcher asks after a while.

“When I was a kid, my father fell from his horse and broke his leg. Though it healed, it still bothered him, especially when the weather changed. I remember the physician who took care of him would massage his leg like this. He used warm oil, as the heat helps with the pain, but we don’t have any, so this will have to do for now.”

Geralt is quiet and when Dandelion looks up at him to check on him, he meets his eyes. He smiles back at him, though in his chest, he feels his heart skip a bit. Most people find Geralt’s peculiar eyes unsettling, if not straight up terrifying. But not Dandelion. They are the eyes of his friend … no, of the man he so dearly _loves_. Whenever he looks in them, he does not see a monster, a mutant or a freak, he sees a man tormented by inner demons who thinks he is undeserving of love or care. Dandelion wants so badly to show him just how wrong he is, but he was a _coward_ , too afraid of losing Geralt to confess his real feelings for him.

Lost in his thought and in those unique eyes, Dandelion only sees Geralt’s lips moving, but does not understand what he’s just said.

“I’m sorry … what?” he says, tilting his head a bit.

“I said you’re gonna freeze, you old fool …”

“I’ll go back to my bedroll as soon as I’m done with you.”

Geralt sighs and soon Dandelion feels the warmth of Geralt’s blanket around his body. It smells like  _ him  _ and gives him the illusion of a loving embrace. He smiles and the movement of his hands falters for an instant.

“Thank you,” he mutters.

“It’s nothing.”

Dandelion keeps working on Geralt's knee until he deems it's enough. He looks up at him once again, hands resting on his own thighs.

"Better?"

Geralt does not reply immediately, but then he looks almost surprised.

"Actually … yes, it is better …"

The bard can't help but smile.

"Perfect! Now try to get some sleep, okay? And keep your leg warm."

He's about to take Geralt's blanket off his shoulders, so he can head back to his own bedroll, when the witcher stops him. 

"Wait. It's cold tonight and I heard your teeth chattering from here. Stay. If we share the bedroll we'll be warmer …" Geralt looks away briefly. Dandelion can swear he looks …  _ shy _ . "Nothing we haven't done before, right?"

Yes. They have shared a bed more than once and each time Dandelion felt torn between giddiness and heart wrenching sadness: having Geralt so close, yet so distant at the same time drove him crazy. But he isn't about to turn down the opportunity to hold him.

"Good idea," he says, smiling, doing his best to hide his inner conflict.

Dandelion collects his own blanket before squeezing into the bedroll with Geralt. The witcher turns on his side and puts an arm around his waist to hold him close. Dandelion feels heat rising to his cheeks, but pays it no mind. He can only hope Geralt doesn’t notice, too.

"Sleep well, my friend …" Geralt mutters, after using a sign to extinguish the fire.

"You too, Geralt …"

It's dark again and Dandelion cannot see Geralt's face anymore. He lies awake, listening to the witcher's relaxed breathing and feeling its warmth on his skin.

He's sure the witcher has fallen asleep, but then he hears him speak.

"Dandelion …"

"What?"

"Thank you …"

He sounds  _ vulnerable _ . Dandelion knows he is not just thanking him for helping ease his pain and his heart swells. If he only could, he would give this man the world.

"Please, don't mention it," he says as he takes Geralt's hand and squeezes it, trying to convey how much he loves him and cares about him.

And he must have succeeded because, after a moment, he feels Geralt's lips on his own.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone!  
> Hope you enjoyed this little fic that I basically wrote in one go. It hasn't been read by a beta, so if you notice some mistakes, they're all mine. I apologize!  
> For those of you who have not read the witcher books, here's a short explanation of what you have just read: Geralt suffers a major injury after a fight and is left with its consequences pretty much until the end of the series.  
> If you liked my fic, I would be grateful if you let me know!


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